


oh, my love, don't stop burning

by jaylene



Series: Tumblr Dribs & Drabs [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: (Though truly not so hapless), And Sakura's the hapless human who comes across him, And potentially a shrine deity, F/M, True Life Shojo Manga, Where Menma is a kitsune, some sort of modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylene/pseuds/jaylene
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uzumaki Menma
Series: Tumblr Dribs & Drabs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121849
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

Sakura curses for the umpteenth time, hating her stubborn streak and Ino’s ability to push all the wrong buttons.

She turns her flashlight once more, examining her rather spooky surroundings. The Kyuubi shrine, destroyed in a fire some decades ago. Sakura transposes pale, smooth walls to the charred, broken remains of the blackened wood. There is an odd, burnt scent that still permeates the air, mixed in with the heady scent of sandalwood.

Dust and soot clings heavily to every part of the once decadent shrine. It is dilapidated and overgrown in some areas with ivy and creepers but Sakura can imagine the magnificence that this place once was; before the War, before the enemy desecrated everything they held sacred. Sakura thinks of the opulence that this place once was, gilded glyphs depicting the Great Fox.

Sakura sighs, slumping into a seated position among the debris. This place was host to splendid feasts, exciting festivals, and dignitaries from the wide world outside.

Now it merely serves as a ghost story to school children. A dare to stay in the haunted place.

Sakura doesn’t feel scared. She is affected by the pain of this place though, the loss of something once beautiful. She feels melancholy, thrumming beneath her skin and in her veins. She stands, brushing her knees free of grime, trekking on.

She enters the small innermost sanctuary, the hairs on her neck prickling.

She gets the eerie feeling that she isn’t supposed to be here.

 _“Come on Sakura. Snap a pic of the statue and hightail it out of there,” Ino says, eyes bright with challenge. “Easy right?_ ”

Sakura gulps, forcing herself into the room.

The room itself is rather bare and appears mostly untouched by the destruction that affects the rest of the shrine. The only item in the room is a cast-iron statue wrought in the shape of a fox with nine tails. Some sort of precious gem, perhaps rubies, make up the eyes. (Sakura wonders, briefly, how they haven’t been scavenged by some teenager.) The statue rests on a pedestal and leaves it resting about eye level with her.

Sakura steps forward, smoothing a gentle hand over the face of the beast. Its lips are pulled into a furious snarl and Sakura’s fingers curl over rather realistic fur.

Sakura leans forward, forehead brushing against the statue. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, not caring that she speaks to an inanimate object. “You have a beautiful temple.” She pauses, snorting. “I guess I’m not fulfilling the dare after all, Ino-pig,” Sakura says to herself.

The gems glitter and Sakura gets the feeling of being watched.

 _Hunted_.

Sakura swallows drily, backing away from the statue slowly. She feels more than slightly ridiculous but she doesn’t care. Sakura continues moving back only to knock into something hard and warm.

She turns, scream dying in her throat as she takes in the man who stands before her.

He is tall and tan with dark hair and burning red eyes. He wears some sort of traditional garb, the like of which has not been seen since before the War. What draws Sakura’s eyes the most are the red tails that wave freely behind him.

Tails.

 _Nine of them_.

Sakura’s eyes dart back to the statue, disbelieving. The man’s grin widens and he nods genially.

“You are quick on the uptake my dear,” he coos, stepping forward and grabbing her chin between his fingers. His clawed nails bite into her chin as he turns her head from side to side. “Not too bad. You will do quite finely.”

“What?” Sakura asks hoarsely.

“As my bride,” he replies with wide-eyed innocence. “You are respectful of the old ways…reverent.” His smile, soft as it is, reveals sharp teeth. “A fine bride indeed.”

“K-Kyuubi?” Sakura says.

He shakes his head. “My title. My name is Menma.” He leans forward and Sakura’s senses are overwhelmed with sandalwood and sulfur. “ _That_ is the name you will be screaming as I fuck you.”

So saying, he slants his mouth across hers, teeth nipping at her lips, demanding entrance.

Sakura refuses, trying to pull away and finding herself completely at the mercy of his strength. Her brow furrows before she opens her mouth beneath his ministrations, moaning deeply. She can feel his growing smile as his hands come up to cup her face. When his eyes slip shut, Sakura lashes out with her fist, striking him in the throat.

Menma crumples and Sakura totters back, breathless and panting.

Sakura turns away, fleeing from the man…deity… _thing_. All the while, thoughts fly through her head as she tries to puzzle out what has happened. Escape is at the forefront of her mind as she moves past burnt pillars and overturned tables.

Her heart lifts as she sees the moonlight through the entrance.

Her hopes are cruelly dashed as arms band around her waist, halting her flight. Warmth seeps into her skin as Menma presses his face up by her ear, whispering affectionately, “Boo.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sakura smiles in a nervous manner, trying to keep herself from fidgeting. Menma has left her among the spiritual dignitaries, promising to return shortly. He has some sort of shrine entity matter to attend to. That was over an hour ago and now Sakura stands among the throng of spirits, feeling more out of her element than ever.

“Ah, Sakura-sama, how are you doing this evening?” Kimimaro asks, eyes bright with empathy.

“I am well, Kimimaro-san,” she replies, smile becoming more genuine. She has grown fond of the quiet, sometimes solemn snow spirit in her time at Kyuubi’s shrine. “I’m just a bit…overwhelmed.”

Kimimaro nods, moving closer. There is an ethereal, feminine quality to his appearance perhaps because of his familial relationship with yuki-onna. Sakura is entranced briefly by the red dots high above his eyes and his long snowy lashes. “This meeting area is quite opulent,” he says in agreement.

Kimimaro leads her toward the low tables laden with food. Spirits sprawl upon plush cushions and Sakura feels a scowl tilt her lips at the sheer economical waste that will result from this ceremony. She is not yet used to the rules of the spirit realm and their detachment from the mess left behind by the War. She smooths her expression, taking a glass of honeyed mead and falling gracefully into a lounging position.

She will navigate this spirit society no matter what.

“Please tell me more about your traditions, Kimimaro-san,” she says with a perfectly poised smile, eyes gleaming with interest. “I find myself quite curious.”

Kimimaro’s cheeks flush an interesting and rather delicate shade of blue beneath Sakura’s attention. “Of course, Sakura-sama.”

* * *

Menma hums to himself, a bounce in his step as he heads back into the main atrium of the celebration. He is quite satisfied with the way the meeting went. He managed to best the Uchiha at their political maneuvering as well as rub the fact that Sakura is his bride in their smug faces. It certainly ruffled their feathers, most obviously those of Izuna and Kagami. Madara was upset as well but he hid it better.

She has certainly left an impression on all of them.

(Though really, who was to know the Uchiha were such masochists behind closed doors? All it took was one punch from Sakura to their leader for them to be infatuated. Not that Menma was much better to be honest.)

Menma’s lips curl into a bright smile, eager to see his bride once more. He is surprised at how strong his feelings for her are given that he chose her on a whim. She was a novelty; strange and reverent in her treatment of his desecrated temple. When she’d brushed his statue with her forehead, apologizing for her very presence, Menma knew he would be keeping her around.

Still, he hadn’t expected her to be this…distracting.

Sakura keeps him constantly on his toes, waiting for her next move, her next maneuver. She almost outsmarted him when they first met and she’d been terrified out of her mind at the time. And since then, she continues to impress.

Menma, therefore, cannot contain the growl that rumbles low and deep in his chest as he catches sight of Sakura, reclining regally among a horde of spirits, all watching her with a hungry, primal gaze. Sakura is his bride and he is her groom, something that is apparently not apparent to those of the spirit world.

He swoops down beside her, tails aflame in his ire and eyes glinting dangerously at the crowd. The spirits wise up quickly, dispersing in droves.

Sakura merely glances up at the crouched entity, raising a single brow. “Way to kill the party,” she teases. She eyes his tails warily. “You might want to control your flames before I grab a fire extinguisher.”

Menma’s eyes zero in on her lips, darkened by the berries she ate. “Come on,” he says, trying to reign in his flames. “It’s time to head home.”

“Home, home or burnt temple home?” she asks, standing easily.

Menma tracks her lithe movements and the way her vibrant sari moves with her. “Home, home,” he says with a snort, gently clasping her hands and drawing her closer into his embrace.

Flames lick up around them but Sakura is not alarmed, well-used to this method of transportation. “Good to hear it. We—”

Her words are cut off as his hot lips press insistently against her own. It is different from their first kiss, not invasive but gentle, asking her for nonverbal permission. Sakura feels her head go muzzy as he brushes his hot tongue across her lips over and over again.

Sakura opens her mouth to him, entangling and dueling with his tongue for dominance. Menma moves her up against a pillar, pressing a knee between her legs and rubbing up against her core. Sakura’s breath hitches on a whine at the rasping feel. She traces her tongue along his sharp canines, smiling at the overwhelmingly good sensations.

Her hands quest up into his hair, tugging on his ears and playing with the soft fur there. Menma stiffens and Sakura worries that she has gaffed up.

Then he moans, hands and claws tracing over her ears and carding through her hair as he deepens the kiss.

Time loses all meaning for a few long glorious moments.

Unfortunately, Sakura is human and her lungs demand air. She breaks away, panting harshly.

Menma smiles, moving his hands through her hair as he eyes glow like bright embers. “You are radiant my bride.”

Sakura’s smile falls slightly and she pushes him away. “Fiancé.” She regards him seriously. “I’m not a foregone conclusion.”

Menma watches as she walks away, rubbing at the queer hollow feeling in his chest. “Huh,” he murmurs, wondering about the strange sensation.


End file.
